"I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. When mistress took and died—’ Joan broke off and sighed, moving away to the window. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere.
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